Vying for attention
by ThatRosieSparkle
Summary: Everyone knows Pansy Parkinson is in love with Draco Malfoy, and it is destroying her. Cue magical transformation and Draco angst. EDIT: OMIGOD, Mary-Sue much? Shameful...


**A/N: ****This is my first ever fanfiction. This idea has been annoying me for weeks now and it feels so good to get it written down. Is it mentioned in the books that Pansy has dark hair? If it is, IGNORE IT just for now, I am allowed my fun. Guess who she's based on! That's right, dear old me.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

Vying for attention

Everyone knew that Pansy Parkinson was in love with Draco Malfoy.

And none more than Draco Malfoy.

At first, the attention had been flattering and he had enjoyed it to its full extent, teasing and enticing her mercilessly at his leisure. But now he was tired of the adoring looks she gave him, bored of her willing subservience and sick of how pathetic she had become.

He became weary of having to break her heart every time he looked away and the strain was starting to show itself in subtle ways. Once good naturedly sharp-tongued, he was now malicious and resentful, guilt gnawing away at his quick humour, turning it to spiteful remarks and poisonous jibes. His face, too, took it upon itself to bear the burden of being the cause of so much pain, faint lines ghosting where his smile once was. Still handsome at a glance, only those closest to him could tell how much of an effect the constant daily battle was having.

It had taken its toll on Pansy too.

Draco had toyed with her in the past, made her feel excited. But her devotion had quickly lost its appeal. When he had begun to tire of her, Pansy had simply fallen into a deep state of depression. Her dull blonde hair hung limp by her pale cheeks and her once glittering blue eyes now looked dulled and lifeless. Her eyes had once expressed everything about her. When she was angry they would burn with an icy fury, becoming a deep cobalt blue. When she was sad the flecks of grey that were mingled in her irises stood out, a stark, moving contrast to the colour surrounding them. When she was happy they would shine and shimmer, transforming into tiny blue mirrors that reflected every beautiful thing in the room. But now they were glazed, a film of pain quieting the once vivid blue.

Her posture also reflected her mindset: small and hunched over, self loathing etched into the tired lines on her sallow skin. Where her gleaming smile once was, mischief carved into every line and dimple it formed, she now wore a pined expression, lips clenched tight shut as if afraid she might let an ounce of emotion escape in a breath. The lips that had once formed sly words and playful jabs. The lips that had once drawn themselves out into a disdainful smirk at the weak jokes dribbled by her peers. The lips that now seemed so devoid of happiness it was a wonder anyone could see past her mask to the tortured soul inside.

Pansy Parkinson had been pretty, once.

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Draco Malfoy toyed with his cereal; he had never been a big fan of breakfast. His fellow Slytherins sat along the wooden table, each expressing their early morning moods in individual ways: Blaise Zabini sat staring, unmoving as a statue, white fingers gripping a cup of coffee as though it were his life force; Vincent Crabbe had fallen asleep on his toast, jam smeared across his cheek; Millicent Bullstrode stabbed viciously at a sausage while Gregory Goyle simply spooned up lumpy porridge and slowly let it drop back into the bowl, staring at it with glazed over eyes.

Draco surveyed his friends and his eyes quickly came to rest on an empty space where Pansy Parkinson should have sat.

"She's ill," he though, with a sigh of relief. No Pansy meant no sickening looks across the table. No Pansy meant being able to turn around without being confronted with a face so lined with unrequited love it made him want to vomit. No Pansy meant, for Draco, a good day.

When he next looked up it was to see a Slytherin girl striding confidently into the Great Hall. For one horrible moment Draco thought he was going to have to put up with Pansy's repulsive devotion after all until he remembered that Pansy did not stride confidently, she moped.

Nevertheless, as the figure drew nearer Draco noticed that the girl was heading towards Pansy's place. It was then, with a surge of realisation, that Draco saw who he was looking at.

Pansy Parkinson smiled at the open mouthed Slytherin boy across the table from her, enjoying the reaction she was getting. The previous night, Pansy had decided, once and for all, that she was done with being sad. She had gathered a small group of friends and, with the help of some bewitched scissors, a little make-up and a lot of pep-talks, they had transformed her from a pathetic mess into a vision on confidence.

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It was the change in attitude that was immediately noticeable. No longer did she shuffle, hunched over and unsure of herself. On the contrary, she now walked with her shoulders thrown back, he head held high, pushing her bust forwards and thrusting her butt behind her. She moved confidently, swaying from side to side, displaying every curve she possessed and using each and every one of them to her advantage. No longer did her eyes shoot furtive glances from underneath a dire fringe, as if afraid to assert herself. She now gazed around her dumbstruck peers, bright blue eyes glinting like sunlight on water, a half smile playing across her face, undecided on whether to become a smirk or remain ambiguously alluring.

After that, there was, of course, the change in her appearance. Once swamped in oversized robes used as shelter from the world she now wore flattering, tight fitting ones that accentuated a figure hidden from the world for so long. Her blonde hair had been cut and now danced playfully by her cheek bones, framing her now smiling face. The back, now a crop, was tousled, sticking at random angles from her head and providing enough attitude to make up for her lack of it over the past two years. Her neck was consequently exposed, curving enticingly into a spine that disappeared beneath thin black cotton.

Draco's eyes traced this line, following the smooth skin down to the hem-line, aching to see more of her, drinking in her tanned skin and flawless complexion. They wandered past her jaw line and drifted over smooth cheeks to come resting upon her fabulous eyes, their previous magic now restored. Blue met grey and both flashed wildly, new levels of lust felt that neither even knew existed. In one glance, both said all they had needed to say for years.

With another flash of her devilishly blue eyes Pansy stood up, turned her back to Draco and slowly but surely walked away.

As Draco watched her hips, mesmerised, he realised in that instant what exactly he was letting get away. A girl who had shown him nothing but care and devotion that he had turned away. A girl whose unquestioning loyalty he had taken for granted for so many years. A girl who had offered herself to him only to be turned down time after time. A girl who had been so overlooked and only now demanded his full attention. And when she had finally got his attention, she had walked away. After finally achieving what she had wanted for so long she simply walked away, leaving Draco knowing exactly what he had let slip through his fingers.

Tearing his eyes away from her hypnotising new way of walking, Draco leapt to his feet and scrambled after the figure who had just disappeared out of the Great Hall. He sprinted into the corridor, searching frantically for where she could be, hoping beyond hope that he hadn't waited too long. His short, platinum blond hair flopped into his eyes as he desperately seeked out the girl to whom he owed so much.

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When he finally found her halfway down towards the Slytherin common room he let out a strangle yell, causing the figure on the stairs to turn and look directly at him. He lightly descended the few steps between them and took her face in his hands, pale skin caressing equally smooth cheeks. Her lips blushed red against her peaches and cream complexion just as his stood out pink from his parchment white face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as her eyelashes fluttered closed, a warm smile spreading across her face.

"Prove it," she answered, barely audibly, soft sounds breathed into his neck as hands wrapped around waists.

As she opened her eyes again, they were met by stormy grey pools of sincerity staring back at her. He leant in, soft lips pressing against hers, gently, as if to apologise for all the pain they may have caused.

They kissed. Tentative initial brushes giving way to heavily impassioned embraces, lips crashing like waves, tongues dancing like lovers. Their bodies pressed against each other, intertwined and melding as if both feared the other leaving more than death itself.

A pause. Silence. As they exchanged glances, still entwined, arms locked around each other, a quiet stillness replaced the fervour of only moments before. The contact where their bodies were crushed together sent tingling sensations shooting up their spines, both acutely aware of the other's presence and drinking in their warmth like a flower basks in sunlight. Hearts beat erratically, creating a rhythm to which they could dance. Eyes glittering, Pansy took Draco by the hand and led him down to the dormitory.

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Everyone knew Draco Malfoy was in love with Pansy Parkinson.

But none more than Pansy Parkinson.

**Well? What do you think? R&R! Don't flame me please.**


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